


Proof Clint Barton Can Make Nice

by Go_Fic_Yourself



Series: Clint Centric ALL CAPS THOR VERSE [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Brief Mention of Vomit, Clint Barton is like flypaper, Friendship, Grief, M/M, Meeting, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4281099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_Fic_Yourself/pseuds/Go_Fic_Yourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 people Clint made friends with and one who became much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha

1\. Natasha

Clint met Natasha when he was 17, it was his second year on his own and it had been rough on him. When he's much older he'll realize that most of his physical scars date back to those first two years (the emotional ones are much older). But right now the jobs are coming in. Not good jobs, because he's not a good person, but good paying. Enough to keep himself in food and clothes and arrows and sometimes he doesn't even have to shoot anyone. The current job was a protection detail for some freak in a hazmat suit. 

Scientologist supreme or something? 

He's on the perimeter of the compound they're at, and he's not sure if that's because of his skill set or because he's so low on the food chain. Whatever, they let him use his bow, so he doesn't care.

One night, or morning, Clint doesn't really remember any more. The sun was at the horizon, he just can't remember which one. He's sitting in the mess drinking a cup of very strong coffee, like you can only get in Eastern Europe or the circus, when a redhead with plush lips and cold eyes takes the seat across from him. He knows her from the rumors. The Black Widow, they call her, which he thinks is a little dramatic, but now that he sees her and can count what might be half of the weapons she's carrying he's reconsidering. 

He nods at her and goes back to his coffee. They sit in silence until his cup is almost empty. "They say you can shoot." Accent as cold as Siberia, with English comfortable on her tongue.

"Anyone can shoot. I don't miss."

She arched an eyebrow, clearly used to the hubris of men. Men who felt the need to impress her or beat her. Clint is neither, Clint just wants to finish his coffee, finish this job and get the hell out of fucking Hoth or wherever they are. 

She doesn't move, doesn't bat an eye or change expression. When he's down to the dregs of his cup he looks up again. His skin had started to crawl ages ago. Her stare felt like an awareness that slowly sank into his bones. He knew it was just a feeling, but it was as though she knew everything he knew about himself. He met her eyes again and realized she did. The ice in her eyes was just a few years thicker than his. 

"They say you can fight." He said, by way of a peace offering.

She smiled and he imagined the ice cracking just a little. "Anyone can fight. I don't lose." She countered. 

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" He asked, smirking.

"It's a deal." She smiled back.

He grinned. "Deal." And he felt a few layers of his own frost melting.


	2. Bruce (Hulk)

It's not that he and Bruce don't get along, they do. They share the kitchen better than any two other members of the team and their relationships with Tony are the same volatile mix of damage control and gleeful encouragement, Bruce for love of science and Clint for mayhem. 

They both watch nature documentaries in the middle of the night when the rest of the team is sleeping.

They both have memories of the stale smell of beer and sweat, hard fists and sharp words. 

So it's not that they don't understand each other. There's just this distance.

Clint thinks it's because of the other guy. He and Jolly Green get along so well that the press has started throwing around words like "bromance" and "hulkeye."

Because as much as he understands Bruce Banner, he gets the Hulk. 

Sure, you could and probably should make the argument that they're one and the same, but Clint has never had anything resembling normal, and that changes things, no matter how short lived it proved to be or how catastrophically it ended for Bruce. Clint can't even imagine the taste of that.

But he understands running until you're not a person anymore, just prey and survival and fear and the choices you make might not be right but they're not really choices either. He doesn't know if Bruce remembers (if he does, he's never said) but Clint does and the Hulk does. He remembers swearing and sweating in his tac suit in South America. Remembers the air feeling thick and wet in his lungs as he finds the shortest path through the city, sometimes cutting through buildings or scaling the walls that divided the little courtyards, chasing after a man that had, a minute ago, been maybe a buck forty soaking wet. He'd be briefed on this (SHIELD was not known for lending out assets to the military without their own agenda). From the sounds of it over the coms the other members of the unit had not. 

He's the last one in pursuit, until he isn't and he rounds a corner to find The Hulk back peddling to keep from trampling him. 

Clint has a split second before the Hulk realizes he's not a civilian, so he throws his bow and quiver to the side in a profoundly stupid show of good faith. He puts his hands up in the universal sign for "I'm not going to hurt you" and hopes that it translates into Hulk. Just in case, "I'm not going to hurt you!" He says, obnoxiously loud like an American tourist asking for directions. The Hulk snorts and his lip curls up, a sound that is upsettingly reminiscent of Jurassic Park starting in his chest. "I have a message from SHIELD. We'll do what we can to keep Ross off your back. If you ever want to stop running, let us know."

Another snort of derision and he's gone, over a building and there's no way Clint could catch him. Luckily, he doesn't have to. 

Clint may be done running, but he still remembers that you don't stop until you have to. Until you can't run any more and you have to choose between dying and trusting someone and you wish like hell that dying was an option.

So he understands the running. He also understands the hurt, and fear and rage and finally being given a direction to point it in. He knows what it's like to be a scared kid and a weapon at the same time. He knows that "take the shot," and "smash," mean the same thing to them.

So he watches documentaries at night with Bruce and cartoons on Saturday morning with the Hulk. And they don't talk about it. Their dads, the streets or hunger or running or fear. They just appreciate each other's company with the quiet knowledge that it won't last and one of them will have to run again someday.


	3. Thor

3\. Thor

Clint is positive that Natasha is the only person who didn't like Thor when they first met. He insists that this is because she has a mandatory waiting period before she approves of anything. She insists that Clint talks too much and gracefully implies that if he doesn't stop, bad things will happen to his tongue. 

Seriously though, how can you not love someone who speaks in perpetual caps lock? 

You can't. 

Until you can.

But that wasn't Thor's fault.

More of a cultural misunderstanding.

After the fight is over in New York and they're all falling asleep over shawarma Thor raises his saucepan of coffee (he had an "almighty" thirst, ok?) and raises a toast to "THE NOBLE SON OF COUL, MAY HE FEAST IN THE HALLS OF VALHALLA FOR EVER!"

Clint's vision blacks out and for a minute it's like he's coming out of Loki's thrall again. He head sure as hell hurts like one of Natasha's hits.

Cognitive recalibration his ass. 

He stumbles to his feet and his vision twists like he's looking through a sickly colored lava lamp. He manages to make it outside and to one of the last remaining garbage cans in this part of the city before losing his shawarma. He hears crunching rubble behind him and expects Natasha. 

"Yogurt sauce is questionable on the way down. I could have done without knowing how it was coming back up." He spits several times into the can and a big hand reaches around him to hand over a bottle of water. Clint gratefully accepts and cracks the seal. The hand settles on his back and rubs with enough force that he chokes on some of the water.

"I AM SORRY, FRIEND. I DID NOT KNOW AND OR THINK TO ASK." Somehow the caps are still there, but his voice is quiet and his tone penitent.

Clint clears his throat, not that it helps him sound any less ruined. "There wasn't anything to know."

Clint leans against a moderately bent light pole and slides down until he's sitting on the curb. Thor joins him. He sees a flash of red hair at the cracked restaurant window and waves her off.

The sun is setting red over the jagged manhattan skyline when Thor speaks again.   
"THE SON OF COUL DIED WELL."

Clint snorted. "No such thing. Dead is dead, no good or bad about it except for the people left behind." 

Thor shook his head. "I DO NOT BELIEVE THE SON OF COUL WOULD AGREE."

Clint took a second, breathed through the wave of emotion like Phil had taught him. "Well his opinion doesn't count for much anymore, now does it?"

"THE SON OF COUL WOULD SAY WE FOUGHT WELL TODAY. THAT COMFORTS ME."

The aura of calm didn't last for long. "You know what? Fuck your Klingon Viking bullshit. Phil is dead and there's nothing noble or honorable about it. It was not a good death and it didn't mean anything. He was stupid and got himself killed. Simple as that. He died for nothing." 

"HE DIED STILL BELIEVING IN YOU."

Clint made a noise halfway between a bark of laughter and a choked sob. "Yeah, like I said. Nothing." 

Contrary to popular belief, Thor did know a losing battle when he saw one. He stood and offered a hand to Clint. "COME MY FRIEND, IF YOU WOULD NOT HAVE ME HONOR HIS DEATH, LET US GO DRINK TO THE LIFE OF THE SON OF COUL. I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW MORE OF HIM, IF YOU HAVE TALES TO TELL."

Clint arched an eyebrow at him but took the offered hand and allowed himself to be hefted to his feet. 

Clint is pretty sure the way he acted that night didn't do honor to anyone, but at the end of it, Thor got him safely to bed and sang him an Asgardian lullaby as he cried himself to sleep.


	4. Tony

4\. Tony

Clint and Tony get on like a house on fire. 

This unfortunately results in the house actually being on fire far more often than anything classified as a friendship really should. Clint teaches Tony circus tricks that the world was better off without him knowing and Tony makes him every type of arrow imaginable. 

Basically it's terrifying.

SHIELD develops a set of plans, backup plans and contingency plans should Tony and Clint ever go dark side together. They conduct monthly drills, which Fury runs while popping antacids, his remaining eye twitching manically.

It started, like so many Stark based problems, with Tony's complete inability to keep his mouth shut.

To say Clint wasn't in a good place right now was an understatement. Like saying the Hindenburg suffered a slight setback when it tried to launch. 

It wasn't that Tony didn't notice or care, he'd just never learned how to deal with all these soft squishy feelings and it just seemed easier and better for all parties if he acted like an oblivious asshole.

"What up, Hawk-guy?" 

Clint was at the table with a can of compressed air cleaning all of the joints on his collapsible bow. Clint shrugged and mumbled something probably designed to get Tony to move along. 

Tony looked up from the clementine he's been examining as though it was the most interesting thing on earth. "Hey, rude much?"

Clint blinked himself back to reality. "What? Sorry....what?" 

Tony slid into the seat across from him. "Apology accepted. So, what's up with the whole bow thing?"

Clint felt his stomach clench. He'd had this conversation before, with other people, but it always went the same way and never got any less annoying. 

"I mean, you don't have to draw back a gun, and you can shoot multiple rounds without needing to reach back into a quiver. It's cool if you're anti-gun though. I could always build you something that shoots energy blasts or something? Or some kind of sedative?"

Clint bit the inside of his cheek and counted to ten, like Phil had taught him to do when he'd first been recruited. It didn't work then or now.

"Don't get me wrong, the bow is way cool, it's just so inefficient."

Clint took a breath before speaking. "Tony, I like you. You let us all live here rent free and seem like a cool guy. Which is why I'm going to tell you that you need to shut your damn whore mouth right now before I show you how efficient I can be with a bow. And if you don't lay off, the next time you are in that suit I am going to land an arrow between the plates at your groin and thigh and detonate it before you have a chance to get it out. So are we clear? You shut up or I shoot your dick off?"

Tony looked equal parts horrified and impressed, but nodded anyway. 

Clint went back to cleaning his bow. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Tony eventually broke it. "I bet if you give me a week I could make you a boomerang arrow."

Clint grinned and somewhere over the Atlantic, Nick Fury got a sudden headache.


	5. Steve

5\. Steve

It takes him a while to be able to stay in the same room as Steve. Finally it's the sad puppy eyes and earnest requests to know if he'd done something wrong that made Clint give him a chance.

The thing is, he didn't want to like Cap. He was a reminder of Phil and how even if things had been different Clint would never have been good enough for Phil. 

Phil would have deserved someone better, someone honest and brave, who didn't have a questionable past.

The problem with not wanting to like Steve was that he was just so damn likable. Though it was probably the fact that Steve is a sarcastic little shit who doesn't like bullies that won him over. And if he spends half his time thinking, 'I have to tell Phil that he just said that.' And then silently cursing himself, no one needed to know.

It wasn't until after SHIELD fell and Cap and Falcon managed to find Bucky and bring him home, and after Bucky started acting like Bucky again, that finally Clint did something that he thought might give him some closure.

He flopped down next to Steve on a sofa in the tower. Steve was reading a book called "America's Women: 400 Years of Dolls, Drudges, Helpmates and Heroines." He wondered what Fox News would think of Cap's "to read" pile. 

"Sooooo...." He trailed off.   
Steve immediately closed his book with his finger in it to mark the page. 

"Yes?" He asked, sensing that this was going to be a special conversation. 

"So I want to ask you something and you don't have to answer, I don't even really want to know, but I promised someone a long time ago that I'd ask." Well, it had been less of a promise and more of a teasing threat, but they seemed to amount to the same thing in Clint's brain.

"Ok...?" Steve was hesitant, but willing to go along with it.

"Like, you really don't have to answer, and you are totally allowed to punch me in the face."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Just spit it out, Clint."

"Were you and Bucky a thing back in the day?" He blurted, totally prepared to run should he need to. 

Steve didn't move, didn't even blink for a moment, for a second Clint was pretty sure he was going to ignore him but then he chuckled. "We weren't, but sometimes it felt like we could have been? Now...now I don't know."

Oh. Well not Clint really felt like an ass...and sad. Sad for himself and Steve and Bucky and Phil. "I'm sorry. I know that feeling." 

Steve shrugged, clearly not eager to talk about it. "Who did you promise to ask me that?" 

Clint looked away, not wanting to explain but also preferring it to the 'what almost was' conversation. "Phil. Uh, Agent Coulson. He gave me a book about the history of Captain America and The Howling Commandos and their influence on history and when I gave it back to him he was so mad because all I could say was that you and Bucky had to have been a thing. He was so annoyed. He focused on the big picture, the hope you inspired in people, the good you did. But I..." Oh god. He was going to do it anyway. "I couldn't see past the bond you guys had. I guess I might'a been projecting or something, hoping you guys had what I wanted. Maybe it woulda meant I'd had a chance." He shook his head at his own stupidity. "Anyway, I used to joke that if you ever magically appeared I would ask you that. And Phil would get all irritated and say that he wouldn't let me and we'd just go back and forth until Tasha or Fury or someone told us to shut up." He smiled at the memory, dumb as it was. "Then you came back and he was so excited, so I brought it up again and he got so embarrassed. You shoulda seen the way he blushed it was..." He trailed off. 

A hand landed on his shoulder, snapping him out of it. He met Steve's eyes and knew the look there. Clint gave a shrug in reply. 

"Guess he and I were like you and Bucky after all." 

Steve gave a sad smile and nodded. "Guess so."

"There are worse people to be like." Clint said sagely, "I mean, not many, but a few. Like...six at least." 

Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. "You really know how to flatter a guy, Barton." 

"I know, right? I'm a regular wordsmith." 

Steve just turned back to his book, still smiling, but diplomatically giving Clint a way out.

Clint took it with greedy hands. "Good talk, Cap." He punched him in the arm, feeling something that might be close to closure starting to build in his heart.


	6. Phil

+1 Who was much more. 

Phil Coulson 

 

It was raining when Clint first met Phil. It would have been like the start of a romantic movie but for the way he was bleeding from a bullet wound Phil gave him. And how he lobbed curses and insults at him when he'd run out of arrows. And how he was taken to medical in handcuffs. 

So it was nothing like the start of a romantic movie unless it was theirs.

"We've been watching you for a while, Mr. Barton."

Clint was all stitched up now, bullet removed first and everything. He lounged in the hard backed chair as best he could. "Yeah? Like anything you see?" He was floating a little on muscle relaxants.

Phil's expression didn't change. "SHIELD certainly does. We're willing to offer you a deal, Mr. Barton."

Clint couldn't help it, he lost his shit. Full on, tears in his eyes, uncontrollable laughter. Phil waited until he'd settled down and then through the next two bouts that seemed to start from just looking at Phil's unimpressed face.

"You're on pain meds, aren't you Mr. Barton?" 

He held up a finger. "1. No Mister. It's Clint or Barton or Hawkeye." He held up another. "2. You have the best goddamn poker face I have ever seen." He held up a third. "3. Your docs don't fuck around. They straight up gave me the good drugs." He giggled. "So what's this offer? I work for you or you kill me?" He arched an eyebrow at the agent, waiting for a response.

"Of course not, Hawkeye. If you choose not to work for SHIELD that is your decision and we will respect it. However, should you choose not to join we will turn you over to the proper authorities to face justice for your crimes. 

"Killing people who sell drugs to kids or make money treatin' people like animals shouldn't be a crime." 

"In some circumstances it's not, I'm willing to put you in a position where it isn't. Where your actions will have government support, and you will always have access to shelter, food, water and medical care."

Clint just narrowed his eyes at the agent. "And what, I'll be your hired gun? You point me at somebody and I make their head go boom?"

"It's a great deal more complicated than that, you would always have the choice to take part in a mission or not, but essentially yes. Unless you would want something different."

"What do you mean, different?" 

"SHIELD would be grateful to have you as just a sniper, if that's where you feel most comfortable, but someone with your skill set could go a long way in this agency. You could get training in espionage, strategy, data analysis or intelligence. Really your options are wide open, but it all comes down to the choice of SHIELD or jail."

Clint snorted, "Some choice." but he held out his hand anyway. 

The corner of the agent's mouth twitched in what might have been his version of a smile as he shook Clint's hand. "Welcome to SHIELD, agent Barton." 

Clint did his best to ignore how warm the other man's hand felt in his and the little flip his stomach gave at that smug smirk. "So is shooting people a normal part of the recruitment process here, or just your way of flirting." 

There it was again, that little upward quirk of the corner of his mouth. "And here I didn't think you'd noticed. I wore my best holster and made sure it was only a flesh wound and everything." 

Clint's mouth fell slightly open and he felt heat rise in his cheeks. 

Oh... 

Oh he so was fucked.


End file.
